George.’
Then she was turning to himself, the fierce eyes beneath their arched brows sweeping him from head to foot, the carefully painted mouth stretching in a wintry smile.
‘My dear Alexander. Quite a stranger.’
Alex took her hand, and kissed the scented cheek. ‘Never to you, Gran dear.’
‘Hmm.’ Selina Perrin made her way to the other sofa, and sat with an effort, accepting the dry sherry that Alex brought her with a word of thanks. ‘Now, come and sit with me, and tell me everything you’ve been doing—apart from what I read about in the papers, of course. There’s quite enough of that.’
‘Ah,’ Alex said lightly. ‘You should never believe all the papers say. But I’ve always thought that if you work hard, you should be allowed to play hard too.’
‘I have no objection to that,’ she said. ‘Just to your occasional choice of playmate. And don’t glare at your father,’ she added calmly. ‘He didn’t tell me about the Crosby woman. I already knew.’
Alex bit his lip. ‘What a pity you never worked for MI5, darling.’
‘There weren’t the same openings for women in my day.’ She paused. ‘Isn’t it time, Alexander, that you left other men’s wives alone, and found a decent, respectable girl of your own? Settled down?’
He’d expected a sly ambush over dinner, not this frontal attack, and had to make a swift recovery.
‘How dull you make it sound, Gran,’ he said lightly. ‘Besides, I’d be the last man on earth a girl like that would want to marry.’
‘Specious nonsense,’ Lady Perrin said contemptuously. ‘And you know it. You’re doing the family no credit, Alexander, and it has to stop. And I refuse to allow the bank to be affected by your rackety behaviour. You’re—what? Thirty-three?’
‘Thirty-two,’ he said, instantly cross with himself for rising to the bait.
‘Precisely. You should have sown your wild oats by now.’
He was seething inwardly. ‘Perhaps you’d like to suggest a suitable candidate?’
‘I could suggest dozens,’ his grandmother said calmly. ‘But I certainly wouldn’t jeopardise their chances by naming them.’
In spite of himself, he found his lips twitching. ‘Gran, you’re impossible.’
‘I’m also serious,’ Lady Perrin returned implacably. ‘It’s my birthday in three months’ time. I shall expect you to attend it with your bride.’
Alex was shaken to the roots. From the opposite sofa, he could see his father staring at them both in open incredulity.
He said quietly, ‘Darling, that’s quite impossible. You must see that. How could I possibly meet someone…persuade her to marry me in that sort of time frame?’
‘You are wealthy, clearly attractive to women, and blessed with far more charm than you deserve.’ Selina Perrin’s tone was resolute. ‘It should be entirely within your capabilities.’ She paused. ‘I would not wish to be disappointed.’
The warning was there—implicit—staring him in the face.
He said, with a touch of desperation, ‘Grandmother…’
‘Besides,’ she went on, as if he had not spoken, ‘Rosshampton is a family house—a home waiting to be occupied. I must warn you, Alexander, that I should not wish it to become a bachelor pad. Or, indeed, permit that to happen. Do I make myself clear?’
Alex stared at her, the colour draining from his face, the blood drumming in his ears.
He said hoarsely, ‘Clear as crystal.’ And saw her give a brief, satisfied smile.
Reaching for her cane, she rose purposefully to her feet. ‘Then let us go into dinner. I hope you’re both hungry.’
He couldn’t speak for his father, Alex thought grimly as he followed her to the door, but his own appetite had been killed stone dead.
He’d come prepared for disapproval, and instead been presented with an ultimatum.
But he wasn’t going to let Rosshampton go without a struggle, he told himself. And, although she was infuriating, he did love his grandmother.
If his inheritance depended on him finding a girl to marry in the next three months, then a wife he would have.
But a wife on my own terms, he thought as he took his place at the dining table. Not yours—my dear, clever Gran. And we’ll see, shall we, who has the last laugh?
CHAPTER ONE
‘LOUISE—are you up there? What on earth are you doing?’
Louise Trentham, on her knees in the loft, surrounded by open trunks full of elderly clothing, heard her stepmother’s querulous tones from the landing below, and grimaced faintly.
‘I’m looking for thirties evening dresses,’ she called back. ‘For the Village Players.’
‘Well, come down, please,’ Marian Trentham said sharply. ‘I can’t conduct a conversation peering up into a hole.’
Lou sighed inwardly, but made her way over to the hatch, and swung slim, denim-clad legs onto the loft ladder.
‘Is something wrong?’ she enquired as she made her way down. ‘I made up the rooms as you told me, and did the flowers. And all the food is in the refrigerator, ready for Mrs Gladwin.’
‘That’s the trouble,’ Mrs Trentham said crossly. ‘She’s just telephoned to say her eldest child is ill again, and she won’t be able to cook dinner tonight. And she knows how important this evening is.’
Lou reflected drily that there probably wasn’t a soul in the known universe who wasn’t aware that Alex Fabian was coming for the weekend. And why.
She said, ‘It’s hardly her fault. Tim can’t help being asthmatic.’ She paused. ‘Why don’t you have dinner at the Royal Oak instead?’
‘At a public house?’ Mrs Trentham reared back as if her stepdaughter had suggested a visit to a burger joint.
‘A very upmarket one,’ Lou pointed out. ‘With a restaurant in all the food guides. In fact, you’ll be lucky to get a table.’
‘Because it’s intended to be a quiet family meal,’ Marian Trentham said tartly.
‘Offering Alex Fabian a preview of domestic bliss?’ Lou’s cool face relaxed into a sudden grin. ‘From what I hear, he’d prefer the Royal Oak any day of the week.’
Her stepmother’s lips thinned. ‘Please don’t be more irritating than you can help, Louise. On an occasion like this, the right atmosphere is essential.’
‘Shouldn’t he and Ellie create their own ambience?’ Lou enquired mildly. ‘Especially when he’s sweeping
